You Are Joking
by GeekyGothGal
Summary: Did anyone else love the way Bond reacted to Q at first? This little story (which also happens to be my first fanfic ever), is about how I think he would react to having someone even younger than Q in MI6. And then something goes wrong, and it turns out that maybe Silva wasn't working alone... WARNING: There are Skyfall spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

You _Are _Joking

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any characters or settings (except Marie Johnson, who is my OC).

This fic is set after _Skyfall_, and it is my first story, so criticism is welcome but please be kind to me! I may have messed up horribly with getting the characters right, so please tell me if I've made any horrific mistakes of that kind. Or any kind.

Now for the actual story:

"007, I'm glad you could make it." James Bond walked into the new M's office, trying not to think about the woman who, up until recently, had been in that position. It had been almost a year now since those unfortunate happenings. Today, however, Bond was just wondering why M had asked him to come up, seeing as he had said it wasn't an emergency. He couldn't help noticing that the Quartermaster, who was standing just next to M's desk, was looking vaguely amused.

"M. What am I doing up here? There's no crisis, you said it yourself."

The Quartermaster wanted to introduce you to a new member of the tech team."

"Why would I need to be introduced to a techie? Is something funny, Q?" Indeed, Q was having little success in stifling a chuckle.

"You'll see, 007." There was a knock on the door. 'That'll be her. Come in, Miss Johnson.' He called.

Bond was not expecting the person who came through the door. She was quite pretty, and she had ginger hair, blue eyes, and an abundance of freckles. She also seemed to be about thirteen years old. Bond turned to where M and Q were standing.

"Very funny. You _are _joking, aren't you? How old is she? Twelve?"

"For your information, Agent 007, I was thirteen years old six months ago." Miss Johnson had a very upper-class London accent, and even when she was confirming herself to be only just a teenager, she spoke as if she was several years Bond's senior.

"Yes, because thirteen's _so_ much older than twelve."

"007, I seem to recall that you had almost the selfsame reaction to me when we first met. I believe you said that I, and I quote, still had spots. I seem to be doing just fine at my job."

"This is different! You're going to let a kid into MI6? She's still in elementary school!"

"Actually, Bond, I graduated from Oxford last year. They are surprisingly lenient with actual age, as long as you have the right mental age. Also, I advise you not to make me dislike you too greatly, considering that I throw more sophisticated temper tantrums than most people, I am very good at breaking into houses and bugging them, and I have a YouTube account. You have been warned." She said all this in a level voice, with an incredibly well-done poker face. Bond cringed mentally. When he decided it would be a good idea to say something, he turned to Q, who seemed to have found the exchange quite amusing.

"Are you two related, Q? She's just like you."

-How did you like it? Was it okay? Should I extend it? Did you like my OC? Did I make the other characters true to the film? Please tell me!

I just wrote this because I loved Bond's initial reaction to Q, and because I'm crazy I thought, "I wonder how he'd react to having a thirteen-year-old join MI6? That would be funny."

Please review this!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys! I'm-a back! Sorry if it took a while, and thanks to The Dangerous One and Revenge77 for giving me my first ever reviews! So this is a continuation of my little storylet, and I hope you like it! This chapter's a bit longer than the last one, and I think the lengths are probably going to end up being very inconsistent. Sorry.

On with the story:

"Good morning, old man." It had been a month since Marie Johnson had been hired, and so far she was doing absolutely fine (though admittedly there hadn't been a crisis yet). She had, however, decided to start referring to Bond as 'old man' or 'granddad', most likely due to the fact that he had made it very clear that he didn't think it was a good idea to have someone as young as her in MI6, dealing with highly classified information. It was childish of her, but she was only thirteen years old.

"Kid." Bond himself wasn't exactly above derogatory observations of age.

"Need a walking stick yet?"

"Grown out of My Little Pony yet?"

"Touché." Bond wondered, not for the first time, how Marie would act in an actual crisis. Probably either stay relatively calm and try to solve the problem or go into hysterics. What he did not know was that he was soon going to find out for sure.

"Oh God." Marie stared at her computer screen in shock, hoping that she was the only person at MI6 who opened her email immediately after arriving at her desk. "This is not good in any way, shape or form. Not good at all." She picked up the phone on her desk and dialled Q's number.

"Hello, Johnson. What is it?"

"I now know everything about last year's events, and unless we do something, everyone else will too. Check your email." There was a pause on the other end of the line, and a rapid tapping of computer keys.

"Oh God."

"My reaction exactly." The email in question was (as you may have guessed because you are clever) a full account of exactly what had happened the previous year, with special focus on the parts that were absolutely not standard procedure, or even authorised. And threats to leak it onto the internet, 'Just like the agents last year.'. This could be serious.

"All right. It's still early, there's a good chance that nobody else has got the email yet. Send out another email saying you opened it on your PC and it's a virus.

"Done. What now?"

"Get 007. Obviously, he already knows exactly what happened last year, and we may well need a field agent. It seems there was an unknown party in last year's incident. You see, there is no record of it at MI6."

"We'll be right up, sir."

"Bond, we have a situation. It's very serious, and so if you could come with met to Q's office right now, that would be ideal. Don't feel like you need to tell anyone."

"I see. Not exactly an official thing, is it?"

"Not in the slightest. It's about last year's shenanigan with Silva. Especially the bits nobody authorised."

"You know about that?" Bond was suddenly tense. "No-one knows who wasn't directly involved."

"That's the problem; someone sent out an email with every single detail about that event, right down to the insignificant tiny little bits like your little scene with Q about the door in the Underground tunnel. Word-perfect quotes and everything, the full enchilada." The word 'enchilada' sounded very out of place when said in her posh Brit accent. "The worst bit is that the person who sent it has threatened to leak it onto the Net, like they did last year with the agents' covers. Everybody else at MI6 now has an email saying that it was a virus, but the info's still out there. We need to find whoever has that information, track them down and stop them."

"Can't Q just trace the email and send something that'll blow them up or something like that?"

"This, my dear old fellow, is why you are a field agent and not working in Q branch. There are at least twenty variables which mean that that plan wouldn't work, but I won't hurt your brain. We're here now, anyway."


	3. Chapter 3

Hi there people! Thank you to yuppiethemerlinaddict and Smiele for following my story! Very grateful to know that there are people who want to read more of it! I own no characters apart from the ones who aren't in Skyfall, and any people who are mentioned but are not actually part of the story aren't mine either.

Q sat hunched over a laptop, his fingers a blur on the keyboard.

"Hello." He said, glancing up for a split second to see who it was. "This computer isn't connected to the MI6 system, so if it turns out there's a virus we were supposed to come across that kills everything on the computer, it won't affect anything important. After the stunt Silva pulled last year, I'm not taking any chances."

"Makes sense." Bond mused. "Whoever got that information clearly at least knew Silva, and probably worked with him. Who knows?"

"The person does."

"I know that, Johnson." Bond snapped.

"Oh, so it's 'Johnson' now? Not 'kid'?"

"You're complaining about _not _being called 'kid'?"

"If you two don't mind resuming your 'quarrelling siblings' act later, we have a crisis on our hands, not to mention one that M can't know about if any of us want to keep our jobs." Q spoke in an offhand manner, but his voice was uncharacteristically undercut with tension.

"She started it."

"Really, old man? _I _wouldn't be that childish, and I'm technically still a child." She turned to Q "What do you need me to do, sir?"

"You could get your laptop - the one not connected to our system - and bring it up here. I'm still tracing the email, but the address is protected by complex code that it'll take a couple of minutes to crack. By the time you get back , I should know what we're doing."

"I'll be right back." Marie took off running.

Marie ran back in and set the laptop on the table, panting. Q immediately started reeling off a long list of instructions, mainly computer jargon that Bond didn't understand. A minute or so later, there was a head-and-shoulders photograph, along with a lot of information.

"That's our man. Woman. Person who sent the email. Seems right, she has connections with the mafia and everything. I have a feeling it isn't her real name, but she goes by Veta Vega." The face on the screen was, indeed, a woman. She had a strongly defined jawline and high cheekbones, along with red hair pixie-cut with a fringe that came to just above her close-set blue eyes.

"She looks like an older you, Johnson."

"Thank you, 007, for comparing me to someone trying to sink MI6. Much appreciated."

"Didn't you know that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit?" Bond asked, leaning closer to the screen.

"Do I look like I care?"

"Children." Q said in the same distracted manner. "Bond, I realise that you're trying to hide the fact that you're worried, but it isn't helping or working, so please stop aggravating Johnson. Johnson, you don't answer back to him. Do we have a location?"

"Yes, sir. The New York Hall of Science, in Queens, New York." She affected a New York accent for the last bit. There was a pause while Q tapped at his computer keys.

"Excellent. There's a flight in just under six hours from Heathrow to John F. Kennedy. There are seven unbooked seats, so a last-minute booking for one shouldn't be a problem."

"How about for three?" Marie said suddenly. Q paled and looked up from the computer for the first time since Bond and Marie had first entered the room.

"Excuse me? Why three?"

"Because whoever's behind this isn't stupid. They probably know we'll send Bond, maybe even want us to send him. Alone. If there's three of us they'll be at least temporarily surprised, and then they'll have to revise any plans they might have had to fit with three opponents being right there rather than just one, with one sitting at a desk back in England giving directions. You forget they may not even know about me."

"You can both go if you think that that'll be any good, but I have to stay here."

"With all due respect, sir: why? Everything we could possibly need is portable." Bond remembered something that Eve Moneypenny had told him in Shanghai last year.

"You're scared of flying, aren't you, Q?"

"So what if I am? It's not like my job usually requires flight. Anyway, I'm not going." By now, the young Quartermaster had resumed typing.

"For goodness' sake, sir! If you don't book those flights, I will."

"If it really matters _that _much, I'll book the flights. But as far as I know, _I _am_ your _boss, and have yet to be informed otherwise."

"Sorry sir, but I think it may I've us at least a slight edge."

"We should set off soon, then. We all need to pick up bags." Bond noted.

"I'll go get my bag then. I keep one packed in my rooms, in case of emergency."

"Where are your rooms?"

"Here, at MI6."

"What? Don't you live with your parents?"

"Think about it for a moment… who make the best recruits?"

"You're an orphan?"

"Aaaaaand, the penny drops. Well done. Yes I am, don't feel sorry for me, I don't remember them, so I can't miss them. I was adopted by M so that I could work here. I'm going to go get my bag now." She walked out of the room briskly. Once she'd left, Q looked at Bond.

"She never lies about it, but she likes to avoid the subject wherever possible. I think it's because she never knew her parents, and therefore doesn't feel particularly attached to them since it isn't really her nature to be like that. She feels a bit heartless that she doesn't cry herself to sleep at night over her parents."

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed." Q finished whatever he was doing, then closed the laptop and stood up. "I have to go get something."

The End Of Chapter Three.

For those who didn't know, John F. Kennedy is an airport in Queens. And thanks again to all who reviewed my fic or followed the story! I love you!


	4. Chapter 4

Hiya! I'm back again, with Chapter Four! I own no characters apart from the ones who aren't in Skyfall, and any people who are mentioned but not actually part of the story (like characters in films/books/whatever) aren't mine either. By the way, were you surprised by the little revelation in Chapter Three? Probably not, but oh darn well. I hope you like this chapter! Oh, and thankyou to TrinintyCrystalPrincess89, KJSpecter, wasneeliw and ImWithTheBand121!

When Marie got back to Q's office, she was wearing black jeans, purple sparkly creepers and a purple t-shirt with a red sparkly bat shape on it. Her 'emergency bag' was a big black messenger bag with bat wings on it. It was also sparkly. So was the black bat on the back of her hoodie. And everything else. Lots of bats and lots of sparkly.

"Very inconspicuous. No one will notice you if you cover yourself in sparkly bats." Bond observed sarcastically.

"People would have thought I was even stranger if I'd turned up at the airport wearing a suit."

"Still, I thought the reason we were all going together was to seem more like everyone else."

"And to give us a slight edge over Miss Vega. Just let it go, granddad. In the eyes of most people, I will appear to merely be an emo or something. I would have worn something more normal if I owned anything more normal."

"She has a point, 007." Q reentered the room, holding some papers. He held them up. "False passports. If we're going incognito, then we need papers that won't blow our cover. We're all American now."

"I thought you didn't want to go on this mission."

"I don't, but since I don't have much of a choice I may as well make it easier for all of us."

The threesome were just leaving the MI6 building when some office worker spotted them.

"Hey! Where are you three going?"

"I'm dragging Bond off to the Science museum, and the Quartermaster decided he'd come too, because there's an interesting new exhibition on! That's why I'm in my normal kid disguise!" If Marie hadn't been a computer genius, she could have been an actress. She did a good impression of being casually cheerful.

"Fair enough! By the way, thanks for the warning about the virus! Lucky you opened your email before the rest of us!"

"You're welcome!" As the three of them exited the building she added, quietly, "I didn't lie much. We _are_ going to the Science museum. I never specified country." There was a hint of amusement in her voice. "It's not my fault that people assume certain details. Whose car are we taking."

"I take the tube."

"Because you're too young to have a license?"

"Really, 007? I thought you were past that." Q spoke with mock disappointment. They reached Bond's car. Marie raised an eyebrow when she saw it.

"Another ancient Aston Martin? And you thought my bats were too conspicuous?" She commented as they all clambered in.

"Shut up."

"How very eloquent, 007."

"I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you who our passports say we are." Q said after a while.

"It probably is."

"Bond, you're Jonathan Squires, American businessman, works in commerce. Johnson, you're his daughter Sheryl. I'm Sheryl's cousin, Anthony Barker."

"I'm Sherry Squires? Didn't know you were a fan of Batman, sir. And Anthony Barker? As in Anthony the sailor in Sweeney Todd, and Johanna Barker, the girl he marries? Gosh." An amused smile tugged at the corners of Marie's mouth.

"They were the first names that came into my head. I couldn't come up with anything else, given the time I had to make three fake passports."

"Fair enough."

After Bond and Q had both picked up their bags, the trio were walking into the airport, with four hours to takeoff.

"Do we go to the desk or does anyone know how to use the self check-ins?" Marie asked.

"Desk." The other two said simultaneously.

"All righty then."

Half an hour later, every one of them regretted the decision. But by this time they were nearly at the end of the queue, so there was no point in changing their minds. When they got to the desk, the desk person asked for their passports, which Q handed to him. The guy looked over the papers and then at the three people in front of him.

"Seems okay. Bags." He sounded supremely bored, unsurprisingly. Bond and Q handed their bags to him.

"You too, sweetheart." The desk guy looked at Marie. "You have to get your bag checked in, too." Marie gave a convincing 'moody teen' glare.

"No I don't, _sweetheart_. My bag's going on with me as a carry-on." Her American accent was good.

"Okay. No need to be like that, kiddo." Marie gave him a death squint. The man looked away quickly and weighed the two other bags. "This one's overweight." He motioned to Q's bag. Q groaned and opened the bag, got out a laptop bag, and closed the bag again.

"That'll be the problem." His American accent was also quite convincing. The bag was weighed again and the desk guy put a sticker around both bags, which went off on the conveyor belt.

"Stage One complete!" Marie whispered as they walked away from the bag check-in area.

"What's with the glaring moody teenager act?"

"It's called living up to stereotypes. Just act the way people expect you to, even if they only expect it subconsciously, and they won't pay attention to you."

"Really?" Bond was unconvinced.

"Really. Don't forget your accent, by the way!"

"I'm not talking to someone who needs to believe the cover." Bond pointed out.

"That doesn't mean someone might not hear."

"But there's no-one anywhere near us who isn't talking to someone else!"

"Then why are you now using the accent?" Marie smiled triumphantly.

"So that you don't give me grief for not using it!"

"As regretful as I am to break up this ever-so-amicable conversation, we're at customs now so shut up." Q hissed at the two arguing parties.

Q went first through the metal scanner after they'd all put their bags, coats and shoes on the conveyor belt , followed by Marie. This happened without any complications, and so it was high time for a scene. Which happened when Bond had to go through. The metal detectors went off because of the bullet in his shoulder from when Eve had accidentally 'killed' him. He was carted off to a room in which he was to be 'interviewed' (interrogated, basically), and his and Q's bags were retrieved from the hold so that they could search them (obviously, Marie's bag hadn't gone into the hold, and it had come through the bag scanner clean). Q and Marie waited outside the 'interview room'.

DUH DUH DUHHHHH! What will happen next? You shall find out as soon as I finish the next chapter. Reviews always welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi again! Merry Christmas! Here's Chapter Five, and the same disclaimers as the other chapters apply. Thank you SO MUCH to twilight maid, Smiele and CSINYCISGreyAnatomyJamesBond 1!

Inside The "Interview Room':

"Why is there a bullet in your shoulder?" Was the obvious thing to begin with. The interrogator, a man named John Mason, looked at the man in front of him. Mr Squires (James Bond to you, reader) didn't look that dangerous, but then again there had to be a reason there was a bullet in him. Bond himself just had to come up with a reasonable story. Maybe it would have been a bit hard for most people under the same circumstances, but Bond wasn't a double-oh agent for nothing.

"There was a shooting last year near my workplace." _Don't forget the accent. _"I was just leaving the building after work and there was this crazy guy shooting a gun at people. I got away pretty quickly, but the bullet's still there." _Thank God I get to know about any potentially dangerous situations. _"Where do you work, Mr Squires?" _Good question. Where _does _Mr Squires work? Oh yeah. _

"I work in the Queens branch of Citibank." There _had _been a shooting in Queens last year, thought Mason. It wasn't outside Citibank though. The guy hadn't specified exactly where it was yet, though.

"Okay. When was this?"

"Last November. A Wednesday, I think. It wasn't directly outside the bank. It was outside Barnes and Noble." That was true, but the trick was not to be too precise, or it would be too obviously an act. _This guy's becoming more innocent-looking by the second, _thought Mason.

_I hope they don't search my bag, _Bond thought suddenly, remembering the Walther hidden at the bottom of the case. _Or this could be an utter disaster, to say the very least. _

"Did you call the police?"

"No, they were already there."

"I see." The questioning continued on like that for several more minutes, Bond trying to remember accurately what he knew about the incident he had supposedly been in and what Q had told him about his false identity while they were in the car on the way to the airport. Then Mason said:

"Right, Mr Squires. I just have to check your bag. Standard procedure. They'll be returned to the hold after I've checked them, if they're clean." Oh God. _Now would be a good time for a miracle. _

Outside The 'Interview Room':

"Dad's gonna be alright, isn't he?" Marie did her best impression of a worried daughter. What she was actually doing was distracting the guard so that Q could attach one of his techno-wonders to the wall and listen in to what Bond's story about the bullet was (which weren't detected by the metal detector because of a coating of some chemical that resisted the detectors. Sounds kind of outlandish, but there you are). It made a story more believable if everyone telling it stuck to the same facts. The guard sighed. He did not like having to deal with concerned kids.

"He set off the metal detector. It detected a bullet in his shoulder. Mr Mason just has to ask your dad a few questions and check through his bag, then he'll be let out and you can go on your way."

"But if you're sure that's gonna be the case, why do you have to question him?"

"Just in case."

"Just in case of what? Dad has a bullet _in _him, sure, but that doesn't mean he even owns a gun!"

"She has a point." Q chimed in, having heard Bond's story. "He was going home from work when that shooting happened near Barnes and Noble last year. He had nothing to do with it."

"Then why's he got a bullet in his shoulder?"

"Strangely enough, the shooter didn't care that he wasn't involved."

Inside The 'Interview Room':

"What's this?" Asked Mason, pulling out the gun. _Oh God. Wait… the thing's coded to my palm print, right? So…_

"It's a copy of a Walther PPK/S 9 millimetre short handgun. My brother collects model guns, and I decided to bring one back for him."

"It's a very good imitation. Very realistic."

"If you want to make sure it's a fake, you can try firing it."

"I'm sure it's nothing, but you understand that I have to make absolutely certain."

"I understand completely." Mason pulled the trigger several times, but nothing happened. He nodded, and put it back into the case.

"Very well, Mr Squires. You're free to go. Which flight are you on?"

"The next one to JFK."

"Then there's still plenty of time. Your bag will be returned to the hold presently. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"No problem." Bond left the room, and met Marie and Q outside.

"Let's go to the terminal, then."

While they were waiting in the terminal for the plane to come, Q started getting twitchy and nervous. He stood up and started pacing around. _I really dislike planes. _

"Aviophobia starting to kick in?" Marie asked, slightly concerned.

"What do you think?" Q snapped, a touch more irritably than usual.

"I presume you know that planes are statistically safer than cars."

"I know that. It just makes it worse, because I know that it's an irrational fear but that doesn't mean that I can control it."

"Irrational fears are the worst kind. I don't like the dark, which is annoying because it's not even an interesting fear."

"What is this, share-about-my-fears time?" Bond complained.

"Just because you're blank-faced and emotionless doesn't mean we all have to be." Marie reminded him cheerfully. "Some people don't mind acting like human beings."

"Well, whatever you say, the plane's boarding now."

"Oh God." Q groaned.

Reviews always welcome :) Happy Holidaays!


	6. Chapter 6

Hi! Chapter 6 is here! Happy 2013! Thanks to twilight maid for your review! I'm really sorry it took so long to update, I'll be faster next time, I promise. If you recognise a character or setting from other fiction or fact, I don't own it. Chapter summary: Q flies, Marie annoys people, and 007 isn't at all helpful. Warning: I am very mean to Q in this chapter.

The three MI6 workers found their seats, and Q promptly began to have a nervous breakdown. No joke. He turned a peculiar shade of grey, and was hyperventilating by the time the plane took off. Five minutes in, he was literally shaking uncontrollably, his face a mask of anxiety and panic.

Marie was trying to help him, and giving orders to the flight staff, which they weren't happy about. Bond was just sitting there, calmly drinking his wine and ignoring the young man having a panic attack beside him.

"It's fine, it's fine, it's going to be fine. The flight isn't that long, anyway." Marie tried to smile encouragingly. Bond, not looking at them, gave his comment.

"Seven and a half hours, on a good day."

"Way to make him _less_ anxious." Bond ignored her. "There is a person next to you having a nervous breakdown so will you just stop trying to be cool for once and _help_?" She hissed loudly, garnering some annoyed looks. Bond looked at Q, then at her.

"He's beyond help." He deadpanned. Marie turned to a flight attendant.

"Get some water. Thanks." She turned back to Q. "Drink this. It'll help."

"What's the science behind that?" Q asked. That he managed to speak at all was fairly impressive considering that he was still hyperventilating.

"What's the science behind your aviophobia? You can glare at me all you like, I'm the one trying to help in this equation."

The air hostess tapped Bond on the shoulder.

"Sir, does your son need any medication?"

"Hm? Son?" The woman gestured to Q.

"Isn't he your son?" _She thinks he's my son? I feel really old now._

"Er, nephew."

"Does he need medication?"

"Do you have anything that might help?" That was Marie.

"We have some travel sickness pills. We always keep them on board just in case."

"That might help. Thanks." As the hostess turned to fetch the pills, she said to Bond,

"Oh, and sir? Would you mind exercising some control over your daughter? She's disturbing the other passengers. Thank you."

"No problem: Sherry. Behave."

"Sorry _Daddy_. Your _nephew_ is in a state of panic and you're doing nothing to help. Good name choosing, by the way." She whispered to Q. "If he ever had a daughter, the odds are good that he'd name her after a type of alcoholic drink." In any other situation, Q might have even chuckled at that observation. In this instance, however, he was far too busy trying not to throw up.

"This is going to be a long flight." Predicted Bond.

He. Was. Right.

Seven hours after that, the plane landed; much to the relief of three passengers in particular. Q was still shaking as they exited the plane, breathing deeply.

"Remind me why I agreed to this."

"Something to do with matters of national security. Oh God, I hate time-changes." Marie groaned.

"What time is it?"

"London: 4pm. New York: 11pm. Let's go check into a hotel. We can't do anything more tonight: everything's closed. Besides, now is an ideal time to get a better idea about Miss V."

"Sounds like a good idea."

"I'm just glad to be off that deathtrap."

"That _statistically safe_ deathtrap?"

"With all due respect, Bond, I don't think you're helping."

Surprisingly, they got out of the airport with only one minor (but very amusing) catastrophe.

"In my defence, the luggage conveyor belts are just accidents waiting to happen. Nobody can possibly go through life without having at least one accident related to those things."

"But, generally speaking, it is quite hard to get your foot caught in the strap of your bag while it is on the conveyor belt. And then fall not backwards but _forwards_ so you are on the belt itself, going round with all the luggage." Bond pointed out.

"In my own defence, I _was_ still recovering from the plane journey. And you could have helped, Bond."

"I did help."

"Yes, after I'd gone around three times and everyone was staring!"

"Boys. We are professionals here." Marie admonished, holding back laughter.

"You could have fooled me."

"Don't pretend that you're any better."

"Shut up, you two. Let's just find a danged hotel and check into it." Which is what they did.


End file.
